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July 18th, 2006, 08:49 PM
#1
HB Forum Owner
<center>
I know the pieces fit cause I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering. Fundamental differing.
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication.
I know the pieces fit cause I watched them tumble down
No fault, none to blame it doesn't mean I don't desire to
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over.
To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication
The poetry that comes from the squaring off between,
And the circling is worth it.
Finding beauty in the dissonance.
There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away.
Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication.
Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any
Sense of compassion
Between supposed lovers/brothers
</center>
( tool : schism )
<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 18, 2006 06:01 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>
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July 22nd, 2006, 05:58 AM
#2
HB Forum Owner
<center>g r a c i a </center>
I'll be thirty-nine by September this year. I think about all the lifetimes I've lived in under four decades, and I'm not sorry about the choices I've made. Except for one. Her name is Gratia. Well, it's not her real name, but here on the compound, it's all that she has got to separate herself from every other face around here.
She has blue eyes. We were introduced at the lab. I was talking to Bri about a confidential project, and she came into the room. I couldn't breathe for five seconds (felt like thirty), but I don't doubt she has this affect on every man. She's young, and it's sick, but those are the best kinds of lovers. They never expect anymore than their twenty year old heads can handle. They aren't thinking about commitments that begin with forever, and neither am I. Anymore, at least.
"I'm from this small town in Texas you've probably never heard of," she says.
She's not white. Not completely. She tells me her mother is Malaysian.
The second time I see her, she suggests we go for a night swim. I'm not sure if I want other people around here to see me socializing with a half naked girl. I invite her back to my room. She doesn't refuse, but she plays her little game that we both know is going to be favorable to me.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" I offer, scanning the various bottles I have stored in a box.
I'm waiting for her to tell me she's not of age, but when I turn around, she's unzipping her skirt.
"You must really want to get an A..." I tease. We don't give letter grades around here, it's more of a pass or fail when it comes to moving to a level two member of Deus Asconditus.
She's my apprentice.
Well, one of them.
She's pulling the blouse over her head, I suck in my breath, and I thank the God I don't believe in.
<font color="#000000" size="1">[ July 22, 2006 12:54 PM: Message edited by: fishhook grief (i'll catch you) ]</font>
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